Monday's Child
by Madam Sakamoto
Summary: Monday's Child is Fair of Face, Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace, Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe, Thursday's Child has Far to Go, Friday's Child is Loving and Giving, Saturday's Child Works Hard for His Living, And the Child that is born on the Sabbath Day is Bonny and Blithe, and Good and Gay... -Drabble Set - Spoilers for Series End-
1. Monday

_Inspired by Quizilla's _TrinityKarose.

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><p><em><strong>Monday<strong>_

"_Monday's Child is Fair of Face…"_

Envy inspected himself in the tiny shard of glass by his foot, wondering when he'd started to care so much about how he looked. Maybe it was Edward Elric's fault. That Fullmetal Pipsqueak _had_ called him ancient only the other day…

But he wasn't _that _old… Only 175. Hell, he was younger than Lust, and Fullmetal would never have commented on _her_ being an old hag. Which she wasn't, because she was beautiful. Really beautiful.

Envy frowned down at himself and shifted into Riza Hawkeye, the Colonel's precious princess. Finding that didn't help, he shifted into the Colonel himself, and then back into his usual form.

Why was he having an inner-turmoil moment right now? Especially by sunset on the roof of a burnt-out building in Central?

Because he needed reassuring. Reassuring that he was handsome.

Because for some reason, some tiny shard of him deep down wanted to know if people really thought he was.

"Envy? What's going on?" Lust gently laid a hand on his shoulder, uncharacteristically concerned.

"Lust, am I handsome?"

She laughed softly. "Envy, you're the most handsome man I know." She leaned down to peck his cheek. "Especially by sunset."

Envy grinned, looking up at her. "Good. Because I'd hate to think there was some human out there I needed to be jealous of for his good looks."

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><p><strong><em>Note: <em>**_These drabbles are _not_ in chronological order. There will be a lot of hopping around from season to season._

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><p><em>Angstilicious Envy, why are you so fun to write?<em>

_Anyway, as I said, this was inspired by _TrinityKarose,_ because she did a collection of drabbles very like this one._

_I just snitched her idea and changed it to fit my style. ^_^_

Monday's Child_ is a nursery rhyme, and I haven't a clue who wrote it. Trust me, I tried to find out._

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><p>All characters and locations <em>belong to:<em> Hiromu Arakawa


	2. Tuesday

_Originally, this one was going to turn out differently. But I love it the way it is now..._

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><p><em><strong>Tuesday<strong>_

"_Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace…"_

Edward sighed softly as he put the last of the boxes onto the spare room floor, pushing the hair out of his eyes. What was Winry even putting in here that was so heavy?

"Ed! Are you done moving those boxes?"

He smiled; heading back down the stairs for the lemonade he knew was waiting. "Yeah, yeah, I'm done. What are you building, anyway? A freaking warship?" He asked, leaning in to peck her on the cheek.

She grinned. "No, silly. I'm going to put the nursery in there."

Ed blinked golden eyes at her. "Nursery? But why? There isn't a baby to put into a Nursery… Winry, did you offer to help out someone behind my back?"

Winry rolled her eyes and handed him his glass of lemonade. "Really, Ed, I thought you would have noticed by now."

"Noticed what?" He asked, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a large gulp."

"I'm pregnant, Edward."

Ed choked on his drink, spitting half of it back into his glass before he started coughing, trying to breathe properly again. "_P-Pregnant_?" He demanded.

Winry laughed. "Real graceful, Edward." She leaned forward to kiss away a splash of lemonade that was still lingering on the corner of his mouth. "And yes, _pregnant_."

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><p><em>XD<em>

_Yeah, _that_ kind of Grace._


	3. Wednesday

_Scar is probably my favorite Angst-ridden character _ever.

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><p><em><strong>Wednesday<strong>_

"_Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe…"_

The Ishvalan stared out at the scarred landscape of his once-beautiful country, wondering when this had happened.

_Why_ this had happened.

There had never been _any_ provocation from either side, and then suddenly a child had been murdered, and Civil War was just around the corner.

Ishval had never stood a chance against Amestris. Not with their weapons and Alchemists and their burning desire for war.

Not when so many Ishvalans had been defenseless and scared.

Scar felt hot tears start to slide across his cheeks, and he didn't try to fight them.

They weren't tears of sadness, but tears of rage.

He would mourn his people; mourn his country, and exact revenge on those responsible for the slaughter of so many innocent lives.

As his fists clenched involuntarily at his sides, he felt his heart turn hard, and wondered if his brother had known the path he would take when he'd given up his arm…

The intricate, almost beautiful tattoos that now graced his right arm were a perfect reminder of how much he had lost … And how much more he still had to lose.

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><p><em>It's like he was <em>made _for this one..._


	4. Thursday

_Jean Havoc = Greatest Guy EVER._

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><p><em><strong>Thursday<strong>_

"_Thursday's Child has Far to Go…"_

Jean Havoc let out a strangled cry as his legs gave out, toppling him onto his hands and knees against the padded walkway he'd been using.

He sighed softly, closed his eyes, and reached up for the beams he'd been holding onto on either side of the walkway.

Doctor Marcoh might have healed his legs, but rehab was going to kick his ass if he wasn't careful.

Jean hauled himself up and carefully continued to the end of the walkway before he turned himself around and headed back the way he had come, eyes set on his wheelchair.

He was so intent on his destination that he didn't notice the figure by the door, or the packet of cigarettes said figure was holding.

With a sigh, Jean plopped back into the wheelchair, wincing as his muscles clenched painfully from the strain he'd been putting on them.

"Looks like you're coming along fine…" Roy Mustang mused softly from behind his Second Lieutenant.

Jean wheeled himself around to look at his superior, cracking a smile. "I guess… But I've still got a long way to go." He took the packet of cigarettes with a grin. "This is mostly thanks to you, you know."

Roy scoffed, starting to wheel his friend out of the room. "Like hell. The only person you have to thank is yourself."

"All the same, Sir… Thank you."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant."

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><p><em>I love Jean. I really do.<em>


	5. Friday

_This was also originally going to be different, but I had to do it this way... I just _had_ to._

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><p><em><strong>Friday<strong>_

"_Friday's Child is Loving and Giving…"_

Alphonse entered the room stiffly, trying not to make eye-contact with his older brother as he attempted to slink upstairs unnoticed.

It was infinitely easier to sneak now that he had his real body back.

"Hey Al, if you're not busy, I need some help…" Edward trailed off as he looked over to the spot where Al was frozen by the foot of the stairs. "Alphonse?"

"Sorry, Big Brother, I have to go take care of something real quick!" And with that he tore up the stairs to his room, not even waiting to hear whatever it was Ed had begun to shout at him.

As soon as he was safely in his room with the door locked, he opened his jacket and smiled down at the tiny bundle of fluff that was residing there. "Hey, kitten… It's okay for you to come out now…"

He gently placed the tiny tabby on the floor, pulling out a box of sardines from the bedside table that he kept around for such emergencies.

Popping it open, he placed it next to the tiny fluff-ball, and smiled as she started to dig in with gusto.

"Now as long as brother doesn't find out, it'll be fine…" Alphonse whispered softly, stroking her head with a forefinger. "So I guess I can't keep you for long… Just until you're big enough to fend for yourself at the shelter… Okay?"

She mewed softly, and Al grinned.

These moments were always worth the risk.

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><p><em>Go Alphonse.<em>


	6. Saturday

_"To Burn or Not To Burn...?" XD That's what I was thinking of when I wrote this._

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><p><em><strong>Saturday<strong>_

"_Saturday's Child Works Hard for His Living…"_

Roy's face connected with his desk in a loud thud, a groan escaping his lips seconds later.

Paperwork was the bane of his existence, and it would doubtless be the end of him.

Especially considering the way it was laid on him without regard for his personal life or mental health.

He turned his head to the side, the cool wood of his desk rather refreshing against his skin, and let out a long sigh.

Who knew being Fuhrer would be so tiring?

And without even a _single_ miniskirt to lessen the horrible, insatiable, tiring pain.

He sat up; rubbing a hand to the red mark he knew was now gracing his forehead, and tried to concentrate on the piles of papers that littered his desk.

Just looking at them gave him a headache.

But that wasn't the point. He shook his head to clear it and returned his attention to the pile closest to his elbow.

He had to do this. He'd promised… He'd sworn that he would turn this country around, and he would be dammed if a few measly piles of paper were going to stop him now.

He downed the last vestiges of his coffee, and picked up his pen.

It would be another long day… But it would be worth it.

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><p><em>Miniskirts.<em>

_That is all I have to say._


	7. Sunday

_Ah, Hughes. I love you too._

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><p><em><strong>Sunday<strong>_

"_And the Child that is born on the Sabbath Day is Bonny and Blithe, and Good and Gay…"_

Maes Hughes shut his front door as quietly as he could, trying to extract his hand from the grip of a bag, and stuff his keys back into his pocket at the same time.

He was home late. Later than usual, even.

He crept past his daughter's room, pausing to peer past the door and check on her. She was sound asleep, cuddled up next to a massive teddy bear.

With a smile now lighting up his face, Maes made his way deeper into the apartment, headed towards the dim strip of light at the bottom of his bedroom door.

Maes mentally prepared himself for the tirade that would be directed at him by his wife when he entered the room, but found that she was fast asleep.

With a rather gleeful chuckle, Maes changed out of his uniform and slipped into bed, pulling Gracia close and pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around him as she continued to sleep, sighing softly as Maes kissed her forehead as well.

"You can berate me tomorrow, Gracia, I promise," he whispered softly, "but right now I just want to feel you close to me."

A tiny smile slipped onto her lips as she shifted even closer to him. "I'll hold you to that promise…"

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><p><em>D'aww!<em>

_Okay, people, that's the last one._

_But there's a _strong_ possibility that I will be writing another one of these drabble sets for a different set of characters and a different series._

_Lemme know if you think that's a good idea. ^_^_


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